Darth Carnos: Ascension
by Penance the Admonished
Summary: AU: Valos Norelco has crushed the Jedi and the Sith Triumvirate and now he need to amass an empire to challenge the Ancient Sith Empire in the Unknown Regions, but the Sith will not relinquish their rule easily. But in order to destroy the true Sith he must make an unlikely allegiance with his old Jedi mentor: Revan. LSM Revan and DSM Exile.
1. Chapter 1

_ He felt it first in the throne room, seven years after he had dominated the pathetic and insignificant minds of the Jedi crusaders that called themselves Revan and Malak. They wished to destroy him, to conquer the Empire he had cultivated with his cunning, and his right and nature to rule. But he had felt it across the galaxy, but it was not the Republic, nor the Jedi, but something of a darker nature…and far more dangerous than any Jedi could be. A new power was rising._

Darth Manthrak: Ascension

Chapter 1

She lay dead before him, his supposed Master's shell, and he felt no signs of life through the Force. "Now the core of this planet will be your grave," he said in his hollow voice. And he dragged her body to the edge of the Trayus Core, and cast it into the planet and the toxic fumes. Kreia's body fell into the green abyss and his comlink buzzed on his wrist. The Iridonian wanted confirmation to activate the Mass-Shadow Generator, the machine that would cripple Malachor V for a second time. But he needed Malachor, and the teachings that lay buried here. "Greeting: It is a great pleasure to see you alive and undamaged, Master," a sycophantic voice said from behind him. "I was afraid, though very delighted, of very well having to dismantle many unfortunate meatbags, and I received my wish."

Derresh chuckled to himself. He turned to face a faded bronze droid, the assassin model HK-47. He had enjoyed traveling with this droid over the past few months; it was overly eager to destroying Derresh's enemies and he was more than willing to oblige. Though the droid did have its setbacks; it was the same type of make as a group of assassin droids that had tracked him across the galaxy, the HK-50's. He had encountered four directly, seven indirectly if he counted his followers' exploits on Nar Shaddaa. They had followed him everywhere, from Telos to Peragus II, all in the task of either killing him or bringing him to their 'Master', who had been unidentified. This model however, was an earlier version, but he knew not of his manufacturer or previous masters, for the droid had claimed of memory loss. But it mattered not.

"You followed me here?"

"Answer: Of course, Master! What do you take me for, a loading droid? Statement: I would follow you to the fires of death, Master, or in my case, a large durasteel scrap heap."

"How did you manage to escape the ship?" Their vessel, the _Ebon Hawk_, had suffered a crash landing in the upper levels of Malachor V, and the ship had sustained considerable damage. She was an old vessel; her previous masters were all smugglers, pirates, or scoundrels, except its most recent master, The Jedi Master Revan himself. Revan was a living legend; ten years ago, he had disobeyed the Jedi Council and called followers to fight the Mandalorians for the Republic. Derresh was one such called, for he was loyal and he had formed a strong bond with Revan fighting in the Outer Rim against the Mandalorians, who he considered worthy adversaries.

After the war, Revan disappeared with Malak and the bulk of the Republic fleet. Derresh had gone back to face judgment of the Jedi Council and for his audacity and defiance, they banished him from the Order and branded him as the Exile. He had lost his affinity to the Force in the final battle, here, at Malachor V, when the mass-shadow generator was activated. He did not know precisely what happened; the catastrophes at Malachor had ravaged both Republic and Mandalorian fleets, and completely crippled Malachor's surface. The chaos and horror had caused him to cut himself off from the Force, and he had done this instinctively.

A year passed. When Revan returned, he returned with a vengeance. He was now Darth Revan; the hero had become the conqueror. With Malak as his apprentice he had amassed a fleet of an alien power and soon all of Republic Space became a war zone. Derresh had only just realized this; during the ten years between now and the end of the Mandalorian Wars, he had been removed from galactic events. He had taken up his title as Exile, and he had been wandering the galaxy. He traveled alone, until Kreia had discovered him aboard the Republic frigate the _Harbinger_.

"Explanation: Master I was cast from the ship when our meatbag pilot crashed into several of the jagged rock faces that cover this planet's environment. I then tracked you to this place and watch you slaughter many a creature and Dark Jedi and then witnessed a considerable degree of power as you gutted the old woman whom you had been traveling with. Irritated Statement: I was rather put off that you would not appoint me to kill her, Master. Doing so would do my programming a much needed workout."

Derresh thought back to his battle with Traya. They had fought at first blade upon blade, and then he severed her right and only hand. She had told him to cut her down and he would have done so had she not telekinetically summoned three violet lightsabers to protect herself. She still did not think he was ready to assume the title of 'Master', and she was prepared to kill him to prove it.

After he had dispatched the last of the blades she relinquished, and she volunteered to tell him everything he wished to know about his companions, the Republic, the Sith, and each world he had traveled to. Yet something still disturbed him; she had said that she saw the end of the Force itself when she looked upon him. He was a wound in the Force, and after he had crippled Malachor, he left known space with eyes blind to the Force. But he had returned, and had become more powerful than ever.

"Query: Master you appear to be troubled. Does some unfortunate meatbag require assassination protocols?"

"No, droid." He answered drolly, devoid of emotion. He was pondering upon what his next course of action would be. Kreia had given him three options: take the _Ebon Hawk_ and follow Revan into the Unknown Regions, remain here upon Malachor V, and await for the 'others' who were touched by the Force, who would eventually come to this world, or return to his Exile, to wander the Galaxy as he had done for the past decade.

He was not a scholar, nor an historian, and waiting upon this world for the Force knew how long did not seem appealing as did exploring the Unknown Regions. Atris or Kreia would have embraced the role without question, but both women lay dead in the halls with their teachings and collected works. Kreia's corpse now was decomposing in the heart of Malachor and Atris' body was rotting in the cold where the Exile had killed the wretch upon Telos, shortly before he had killed Darth Nihilus.

Exile was not an option. The Force had manifested itself inside him again for a purpose, but he had yet to discover it. He was required to do something but it was not restore the Jedi Order, he knew this to be true. The Jedi were now extinct, their teachings were now buried and exposed just as their Masters in hallowed halls. Dantooine's Enclave had burned after Malak's attack, Katarr had been ravaged with the Force by Nihilus, and Coruscant now lay empty, the room of a Thousand Fountains lay still. He would not reassume exile.

Following Revan had its advantages; he would finally learn of the Jedi's fate and perhaps cripple the ancient Sith Empire that Kreia had spoken of. They were to be a true test of his strength's, and fighting alongside Revan again would be a true honor again, even for a dark side adept like himself. But he would be a fool if he were to do it as an emissary of the light.

"Query: Master I did overhear the old one speak of you fulfilling your programming beyond the Outer Rim. What is your eventual intention?"

Derresh looked into the orange photoreceptors of the assassin droid. "I am going to destroy the Sith." He activated his double-bladed lightsaber and stared into its brilliant ruby-red light. He was no longer Derresh Norelco; he would now assume the mantle of the Sith, he was now Darth Manthrak, destroyer of the Sith Triumvirate, liberator of Onderon and the scourge of the Jedi Order. A new reign had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Author's Note: This chapter contains excerpts from the novel Star Wars: The Old Republic: Revan by Drew Karpyshyn. A lot of this is added to create some of the side plots. I've also decided to use some of the characters from the novel and I'm excited to incorporate them into the story. Please R&R!_

Atton awoke inside of the _Ebon Hawk_'s cockpit in a pool of his own blood. After he became conscious of his predicament, he remembered piloting to the ravaged world of Malachor V, with his leader, the famed Jedi Exile, on board as passenger. But 'passenger' might be considered a poor term, more so his Master, Lord, and Commander. He was loyal to his Master, and would follow him almost anywhere, provided of course he was guaranteed survival. He had abandoned many who had come to rely upon him, deserted those who trusted him, and betrayed those who came to care for him.

He had traveled alone for many years before meeting the Exile on the mining facility of Peragus II. He, of course, was looking for every means possible to escape the facility, as the miners had imprisoned him for trespassing in their territory. Atton traveled with the Exile for many months, and he taught Atton the ways of the Force, and of the Dark Side. Atton was an adept of assassination, and now with his new found abilities, he could augment them and become more of a juggernaut of death and chaos.

"Son of a murglak…" he said wearily, as he raised himself upon his knees and then up onto his feet. A searing pain shot across the top of his skull and he raised a hand to it. He touched a warm, sticky liquid which he confirmed as blood; apparently he had hit the cockpit glass and rendered himself unconscious and collapsed upon the floor. He focused on staying conscious again, and lumbered down the cockpit hallway. The ship had suffered considerable damage; the main hold was half collapsed on the port side, and he could see Malachor's lightning filled sky.

"You scared the fierfek outta me. I thought you were one of those storm beasts," a slightly muffled voice said. Atton recognized the voice as the Mandalore, leader of the Mandalorians. Atton turned to see the silver armored figure and the T shaped visor on his helm. Respiratory tubes ran from the jaw line of the helmet. He held a Ceremonial Bowcaster in his right hand and an armed thermal detonator in the other. "Who else is still alive?" he asked as he disarmed the detonator and placed it on his belt.

"I don't know," Atton said as another shot of pain surged through his skull, "You're the first person I've seen since the crash."

Mandalore turned without another word and stepped over debris moving toward the Engine Room. As far as Atton could see, the back of the ship had suffered no damage. The ship had had repairs done at Peragus but even those had been insufficient; the ship had barely held together in a proper fire fight. Mandalore called out for their companions of the last few months: Bao-Dur, the psychotic Wookie, the tin can, the assassin droid, GO-TO, the Miralukan, the Handmaiden, and the Exile. None responded.

Atton had thought they might all be dead, but a sudden sound of movement told him that someone else had survived; he hoped that his Master was alive, but then again he doubted anything would prove victorious against him. He was the most powerful thing he had ever seen, a raw vessel of power, and a masterpiece of death. He turned his attention to the garage, on the starboard side of the ship underneath a pile of durasteel scrap. Out came a head full of horns, and Bao-Dur the Iridonian scrambled from the wreckage, lightsabers in hand. He too had been trained in the ways of the Dark Side, loyal acolytes of the Exile. However, Atton did not approve of his shared apprenticeship, but he dare not go against his Master's will.

Bao-Dur's face was black and red with his world's tribal tattoos, a common thing among Zabrak warriors, but he had only adopted these after he had been trained by their companion. But apart from the tattoos, the Iridonian was badly injured; numerous burns had melted through his armor, lacerations had penetrated his armor and adorned his face, and he was favoring his left leg.

Bao-Dur's left arm was not actually an arm at all; it was a cybernetic, bionic, robotic, something. All Atton knew or cared about was that Bao-Dur only had three natural limbs. The arm itself was actually a fusion cord between the metal gauntlet and the power emitter which was connected to the Iridonian's bicep, or what was left of it.

"What the hell happened to you?" Atton said rather fiercly. "I haven't seen anybody else since we hit that rock face."

"I'm fine," Bao-Dur responded in his maddeningly calm voice. He showed no signs of pain from his injuries. "The General isn't here; I saw him thrown from the ship before I was crushed by those slabs." He gestured to the metal scraps. "Anybody else alive?"

Atton stared back at the mechanic. "No," he replied dryly. "None except the Mandalorian."

Bao-Dur frowned. "Let's get to the work then. Ship isn't going to fix itself, y'know."

Scourge descended into the dungeons of Lady Nyriss' fortress. He didn't acknowledge the guards as he passed through the checkpoint as he had done countless times before to visit the Prisoner, the man who had spent his the past three years in his detention cell of the Sith Lord's stronghold. Scourge was a Sith Pureblood; with blood red skin, orange eyes, and tendrils descending from his jaw. He had come to speak with Nyriss's prisoner; Revan, former Jedi turned Sith Lord, newly endowed Jedi Master. They had discovered his unconscious body on the lifeless planet of Nathema, the planet that the Sith Emperor himself had destroyed with his powerful affinity of the Force in an archaic ritual meant to achieve the impossible: immortality.

Lord Scourge had been determined from that point to either assassinate or usurp the Emperor. The Emperor and his irrevocable fear of death had driven him insane, and Scourge had taken it upon himself to stop him from starting another war with the Republic, which would lead to the eventual eradication of the Sith, as it almost had thousands of years ago in the Great Hyperspace War.

Nyriss had spoken of Revan when they had first brought him here; he and another Jedi called Alek had tried to assassinate the Emperor. Instead, he dominated their minds with his considerable Force ability, and turned them into slaves of his will. He sent them as emissaries back into Republic Space, only to report back to him upon the condition of the Republic. When no communications had been provided, the Emperor assumed the two Jedi dead and continued to plan his assault on the Republic.

What had transpired between then and Revan appearing on Nathema was unclear. Revan's mind was a fragile thing at best after the Jedi Council had wiped his memories; he remembered nothing of the Emperor, or of his Empire, but had revealed to them that he had come to Nathema to reclaim his lost past and memories. Scourge pulled his hood off of his red scalp and scratched his tendrils as he entered Revan's cell. The Jedi sat in a meditative pose with his face pointed to the cell floor, facing the entrance of the cell. The man's body had taken a toll in his years on Dromund Kaas; his jet black hair had tinges of gray, fair skin turned sallow, and poisons continued to ravage his body, from the inside out. But his Force aura continued to ripple with incredible energies.

"Revan," the Sith said in the empty room, "I wish to speak with you."

The middle aged man's eyes opened precariously, as if he had awoken from a deep sleep and looked dazedly at the cell floor. Scourge wondered if this was a side effect from the drugs that the prison keepers had kept using on the captive. Revan's body had shown incredible resistance to the drugs, but it was little surprise considering his Jedi training, and Scourge was fascinated with everything about this man.

Revan continued to gaze blankly at the floor and Scrouge clapped his hands together. "Revan," he repeated, slightly louder.

"I'm sorry, my lord," The Jedi responded with slight slur in his words. "I'm having trouble…focusing. It's good to see you again. I always enjoy your visits." He said with a faint smile.

Scourge would never have admitted it but he also enjoyed his visits with the Jedi prisoner; Scourge had found himself obsessing over the Jedi, and his powerful attunement with the Force, and the Sith Lord was determined to break him into serving the Dark Side, as unrealistic as the goal might seem. Revan had once walked that path, and only the combined might of the Jedi could completely deter him from his dark course for power.

"You seem troubled, my lord." The Jedi said.

"Nyriss still refuses to take any real action against the Emperor," Scourge responded begrudgingly. "She tells me we must be patient, but her energies and resources are focused on besting her rivals on the Dark Council."

"Nyriss is driven by fear." Revan spoke in monotone verse, as a wise teacher of olden years. "Openly striking against the Emperor puts her life at risk. Her own immediate survival is more important to her than the fate of your Empire."

"There are powerful allies who could be persuaded to help her," Scourge reasoned. "All they need is someone to step up and take charge. All they need is a leader to spur them into action."

Revan held out his hand as if presenting something. "I was betrayed by Malak," he said. "Nyriss is afraid the same thing could happen to her. If she steps forward as leader, she could no longer hide in the shadows with the others. She will be exposed, and it would only take one ambitious rival to betray her to the Emperor and bring everything crashing down."

"If all the conspirators are too afraid to step forward, the Emperor will never be stopped. Eventually he will lead us into a war we cannot win, and the Jedi will wipe us out in retaliation. Ultimately doing nothing is the most dangerous of all."

"Nyriss blinds herself to that truth. That is the way of the dark side," Revan said. "Those who follow it are driven by fear and ambition. They are too selfish to see that great victories require sacrifice."

Scourge frowned. He often tired of hearing Revan's preaching against the dark side, but this was one of the things he wished to break the Jedi of. He knew he need to find the right people to work with to bring down the Emperor and save the Empire, but who was to be trusted?

"You need to find another ally to your cause," Revan said. "Someone powerful, who is not caught up in the politics of the Dark Council."

Scourge laughed at the fact that the Jedi had practically read his mind. "You must be growing desperate if you think you can talk me into helping you escape."

"We share a common goal," Revan said shrugging. "We both want to stop the Emperor from invading the Republic, for reasons only known to us. But I don't need your help to escape. The Force has shown me that I will soon be free."

Scourge looked at the Jedi inquisitively. "You have had a vision?" The Force had never shown him any vision or dream; it was very rare among Sith because they never need insight from the Force as the Jedi did.

Revan nodded. "My freedom is drawing near."

The _Ebon Hawk_ found its new home in front of Malachor's Trayus Academy shortly after Atton had realized he survived the crash. The rest of their companions had been accounted for, except for the Exchange droid and Bao-Dur's Remote. Not that mattered anyway; both of the floating domes were practically useless as far as he was concerned. Well maybe the little guy could help the Iridonian with some minor repairs, but G0-T0 did practically nothing except give its human counterpart surveillance of the entire ship and gave him eyes on the Exile.

The Exile had killed everyone in the Trayus Academy, including Kreia. He had slaughtered hundreds like the worthless creatures that they were. Atton still marveled at how his Master could kill in an instant; such power, such ferocity was not meant to be trifled with. The Academy still stank of the dead, but many of the corpses had been cleared away by the newly anointed Sith Lord.

Atton now was assisting the utility droid in tuning up one of the rear engines that had taken a hit in their rather rocky descent. The little trash compactor really did know how to fix things up: he and Bao-Dur had accounted for dozens of weapons and ship repairs.

T3 chirped something rapidly to Atton.

"Say that again?"

T3 beeped rather agitatedly.

"Geez, my bad. Give me a sec." Atton grabbed the hydrospanner out of their shared toolbox and clipped it onto T3's extended droid arm. The droid chirped his thanks and continued priming the hydrocoil he was working on. Atton wiped the back of his hand across his forehead did his best to get the grease out underneath his fingernails, and walked back into the ship looking for the person he wanted to speak with most.

He found him in the starboard dormitory. The Dark Lord was knelt in meditation, his back to Atton, his darkness penetrating Atton like cold icy water.

"Master."

Carnos' eyes flickered to the resonate voice of his apprentice, but they did not open. "Why are you here?" He spoke without turning, but the venom in his voice was enough to make his disciple shiver.

"I have questions."

"And they must be spoken now?" Atton knew that his Master did not like to be disturbed, but he needed answers.

He shifted on his feet and said, "What happens now? You've killed the Jedi, the Sith, the Republic is broken and you've had your vengeance. What do we do now?"

Carnos opened his eyes, stood and turned. He was significantly taller than Atton but he was more than Atton could ever be, for the weak must obey the strong.

"My vengeance has yet to begin, my apprentice."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Onderon was a planet that seen more than its share of blood and death in their recent history, particularly the recent family feud between General Vaklu, and the now deceased Queen Talia. The conflict had been brief but extremely devastating, with casualties numbering in the thousands on both sides. The military had split into two, those supporting Vaklu and Colonel Tobin and the Royalist soldiers defending their beloved Queen. The Beast-riders had been non-existent in the skirmish between loyalists and rebels; however Mandalorians from the neighboring moon of Dxun joined the battle, led by a Force-wielding Dark Jedi named Valos Norelco. After he single-handedly broke the Royalist lines on the Sky Ramp leading to the Palace, he killed both the Jedi Kavar and Talia. The battle had left Iziz and Onderon shattered and broken, but its people were free. After the battle Norelco had stayed for several weeks, none but Vaklu and his most trusted supporters were aware what for.

And that reason was to train an army of Force-wielders.

The army of Force-sensitives was known prevalently as the Iziz Sanctum, and each member as _Kad_, 'Saber' in _Mando'a_. After the battle, the Mandalorians had risen in status upon this planet from despised and shunned to revered and respected. Now that the Darksider had left the planet, Ether Binvak, the most senior of the house, had taken over at Norelco's command. Iziz was struggling to rebuild after the war between Talia and Vaklu, but all citizens knew that where the sword of the Sanctum fell, order followed.

Iradros Turus was one of the fateful few of the Iziz Sanctum. He was human, like most in this part of the galaxy, and a young promising student of Norelco. He was about twenty standard years of age, with a large build, and long black hair swept back behind his head. Today he was inside the palace, sparring in the hall with some of the props, shirtless, with a heavy coat of sweat and muscles brawn. He often found himself here, wielding his vibrosword with the elegance of the Echani but also with the ferocity of a Mandalorian. Most of the Sanctum had adopted the lightsaber form of Juyo, but yet Iradros found it ironic that they were practicing lightsaber forms when in reality none of them had ever held one. He had an undefined style, which was still formidable, and Lord Norelco had said it himself. Iradros smiled to himself as he executed a broad swipe from his weapon shoulder to opposite hip which severed the head off of the dummy he had been victimizing. He was one of the first selected by Norelco when the Dark Jedi had started the training. He still could remember the great day when Iziz and Onderon were freed from the tyranny of the Republic.

"Iradros!" Resla called. "Iradros! They've called a ceasefire in the Palace! They say the war is over. It's all over." Iradros came jogging around the corner of their rundown shack; the bombings from the Vaklu troops had burrowed them down here but thankfully they had enough food and water to survive for weeks. He looked at his wife and smiled broadly. "We are free my dear." He said quietly. She looked back at him with an even broader smile, and her bright green eyes still show even in the little light they received down here. "It's all over," She repeated, and she ran forward and planted a hard kiss upon his lips. He returned it with the same enthusiasm.

"Kad Iradros!" The call to attention snapped Iradros from his daydreaming and he immediately ended his training session and he stood ready for inspection. None other than Vod Ether had disturbed his training. The middle aged man was dressed in standard Onderon militant garb but with one exception; He had a helmet that was tucked under his arm that an eight-pointed star visor. The Sanctum was easily distinguished with their helms and they were respected through out all of Iziz. Ether was also a man not to be mistaken; he had mahogany-red hair with bright red eyes, and was as strong as a Vornskyr. He was standard height for a human male, and he had a large vibrosword at his hip.

"Yes, Vod Ether!" Iradros responded with the same fervor and he nodded to his commander.

"Be still Iradros." Ether responded. He handed Iradros a simple datapad. "You've been assigned to the Residential Quarter. Just regular check-ups and patrols. These orders are coming from uptop, so be grateful, son. Welcome to the Sanctum Seniority, Vod Iradros." Ether grinned at him and slapped him on the shoulder.

Iradros could feel himself grinning from ear to ear. He had just been promoted to _Vod_, the highest rank in the Sanctum. And not only that but now he had dozens of Sabers who now answered to _him_. He couldn't wait to tell Resla the good news. Perhaps she would have a good meal prepared for him when arrived home. "Thank you, Sir. Will do." Iradros bowed and retrieved his shirt and boots and headed to the barracks to refresh and change.

Malachor V was alive with thunder and lightning, perfect in which to conduct his dark affairs with. The Trayus Archives were deep within the Academy, and Carnos had killed the Historians within with the same brutality as he had with the rest of the enclave. He had been surprised when he discovered the vastness of information within these halls; it was not as massive as the archives in Coruscant's Temple but it was the largest collection of information he had seen outside of the Jedi Temple. He had scanned thoroughly the History of the Sith, but too many of the scrolls and holocrons had suffered from neglect or been lost to time. The gatekeepers of the holocrons were none that he had ever heard of but they echoed the stories of Ragnos, Naga Sadow, and the ones that came after them.

Carnos had found that history had always served him well; the events at Telos and others on his journey to his reincarnation in the Force had been proof of this. Now he felt the only way to move forward and destroy this 'True' Sith Empire was to learn from the great heralds of the Sith. He looked back upon his days as a Jedi and how they taught that the pursuit of knowledge was a good thing but they forbade some knowledge to the younger, or stronger, students to keep them in check. Such was of fear, and they wished to hold onto their vaunted power. Not that it was edifying in their current state, anyway.

Green light blended with the red tinted glass and gave the hall an eerie and dark quality, but it felt that it compelled him to dig deeper. He had scoured through dozens of scrolls and holocrons alone this day, and had found nothing. Perhaps Kreia had lied to him...?

Ah, but he pushed that thought quickly from the recess of his mind. If Kreia had been lying, she would have died an opportunist; Revan disappeared into the Unknown Regions three years ago, that he knew, and why else would Revan disappear into unknown space if not to combat a great threat? Revan was no coward, nor a fool. Carnos was certain of that.

He tore one a sheet of parchment in half. He knew that Revan would never have given the search up so quickly. Why should he?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"All rise for honorable Judge Rulin!" Carth stood from his not-so-comfy chair in the square room for a man who knew as little of war as an infant. Rulin was a tiny human, with a patch of grey hair upon his balding head. The head of the Telos Council sat down at his esteemed spot at the center of the room, surrounded by his four advisors, two on each side.

A month had passed from the battle of Telos in what locals were already calling the Dark Wars. The Exile, a student of Revan, had killed the leader of a rogue Sith invasion force and saved the planet from another traumatic incident.

"Please be seated," Rulin said in a smug voice that complemented his enormous belly. Carth was more than willing to oblige and he was the first to sit in the small meeting room. Despite being an improvised meeting house, several dozen citizens had come to see the meeting unfold.

"Today we've come to resolve the matter of the Restoration efforts and their relevance to Telos," Rulin yammered on. "With me are Judges Hul, Vithro, Hudin, and Duer. And today we have a special guest and representative of the Galactic Republic, esteemed Admiral Carth Onasi, also a resident of our fair planet of Telos."

Carth nodded to the small man and Rulin continued. "The floor is now open to any who wish to address myself and fellow judges, and Admiral Onasi." Carth folded his arms. He wasn't really geared for this sort of thing. At least he was in on the determining the fate of his homeworld but he felt that the Telos Council needed to be focused upon rebuilding instead of _debating_ on rebuilding.

An Ithorian came forward and stood at the podium in the center of the room. "I first have a request toward all honorable Judges." Rulin nodded and leaned forward in his significantly more comfortable-looking chair.

"In the course of the battle-,"

"Please state your name for the record, sir." The scribe said at a computer terminal.

"Oh goodness, pardon me," the Ithorian rumbled. "My name is Moza of Chodo Habat's herd. I am the next in line for Patriarch and have been heavily involved with the Restoration efforts. A Jedi, Valos Norelco, also known as the Exile, was involved heavily in assisting Czerka Corporation in hindering our progress. In the battle with Sith, Norelco was seen fighting off Sith advance troops and I have heard that Jana Lorso was killed while attempting to flee. With no appointed leader of the branch and the financial struggles of the corporation, I implore you to restore funding to the project."

Judge Rulin nodded. "Yes we are aware of Norelco, '_also known as the Exile'_, working with Czerka and of the death of Ms. Lorso, but there is no such evidence of them 'hindering' your progress. However your support in the project is duly noted." He pulled out a datapad and skimmed down out at it.

Carth admired the Ithorian to state that Czerka's leader had been killed in the battle. He too knew for the sake of the Republic, the Restoration Project had to be continued. Telos was too important, with it being the only Republic trade world on this side of the galaxy, not to mention it being one of the few Republic planets left.

"Ah, but there is evidence against him, your Honor." Moza looked rather frightened but still his statement grabbed everyone's attention in the room.

"Please," Rulin said, leaning back in his chair and waving his hand. "Go on."

Moza nodded. "In the events of the Exile's presence here on Citadel Station, he abducted a droid intelligence which was imperative to our Restoration efforts. He infiltrated the hangar and stole the droid from its keeper and the case had never been investigated by the TSF. He also was seen dealing with bounty hunters, and selling illegal weaponry to them in the Residential Module 082."

Carth was indeed surprised about this. The Exile seemed unbalanced when Carth had spoken to him after the skirmish above Citadel Station, but he never would've guessed that the Exile was a suspected criminal.

"Indeed," Rulin said. "But this meeting is not to condemn Mr. Norelco, who single-handedly saved Citadel Station. We are here to discuss the fate of the Restoration Project, and if you have no other questions relevant to the case I suggest you step down from the podium."

Moza seemed taken aback, but he nodded. "Thank, your Honors." All judges nodded and the Ithorian stepped down. Carth smiled when he saw the judges looking at one another in serious contemplation. He hoped that they were taking everything into account what Chodo Habat's eventual successor had said about Czerka attacking the Restoration efforts, but he wasn't sure about the accusations on the Exile.

Another speaker stepped forward. It was a man in Telosian style clothes, with hues of grey and blue, and a brown hair and beard. "My name is Derk Gallivar, from Residential Module 049. I'm a scientist and worked part time on the planet's surface studying flora and fauna and their reintroduction into Telos' environment. I wish to direct my question to Admiral Onasi."

Carth leaned forward in his chair and focused all of his attention on the speaker.

"Admiral Onasi, you served with Revan in the war correct?"

"Which war are you referring to?" Carth replied. "The Mandalorian Wars or the

Jedi Civil War?"

"The Jedi Civil War, forgive me."

"Yes that is correct, Mr. Gallivar." Carth failed to understand where this was

going.

"And this Exile served with him in the Mandalorian Wars? About ten years ago?"

"Yes." Carth replied again.

"Then do either of you know where Revan disappeared or why he did after the Jedi Civil War?"

Carth rolled his eyes. He had been expecting this, but he felt that he should try to enlighten the man as much as he could, even with his impatience. "No, no one knows where Revan went after defeating Malak in the Jedi Civil War. Not even the Exile. Councilmen," he said turning to Judge Rulin. "I ask why this question be asked that has no relevance to the Restoration project. Can we have the next speaker please?"

"Overruled." Judge Rulin said, not looking up from his datapad. "Mr. Gallivar, continue."

Gallivar nodded his thanks and turned back to Carth. "Then why after Revan's disappearance did the Sith resurgent choose then to manifest themselves? Were they attempting to assume Malak's role as Sith Master? Or was this Dark Jedi of another sort entirely?"

Carth sighed, out loud, and continued. "I'm afraid I don't know, Derk, but if it's the ascension of the Sith or Revan's previous encounters with them, I suggest you ask a Jedi historian and spare the unfortunate souls in the back row your pointless rants."

There was some stifled laughter at this, but Gallivar seemed unfazed by Carth's jest. He merely looked back into the Admiral's eyes, unabashedly.

"Order!" Judge Rulin called. The room quieted down periodically and the fat man continued. "Admiral Onasi, please do not mock the speaker, or I shall have to remove you from the court." Carth here waved his hand and took a sip from his water on the table. "Mr. Gallivar, you may continue."

"You were considered his best friend, were you not Admiral?" Gallivar asked.

Carth nodded. "One of many, yeah."

"I mean his closest friend. Like his own flesh and blood. A brother."

"I suppose."

"Then where is he, Carth? Where is Revan?"

Carth sighed again, a long sorrowful sigh, which showed his anguish. He leaned into the microphone and whispered mournfully, "I don't know."

He headed back to his rented out apartment after the meeting, which ended early. _Thank the Force_. He took off his armor and slid his pilot's jacket back on, in which he felt much more at ease. He opened the pantry and grabbed some fizzy glug and popped the lid open. He smiled; the meeting had gone just the way he had wanted it to, besides the whole interrogation on Revan; the Restoration efforts had been reinstated, with even some small anonymous donations of fifty-thousand credits. It wouldn't rebuild Telos for some few years but it was a good way to start.

"How'd it go?"

Carth smiled again and turned. Bastila Shan sat in the sofa by the window, which he had to say, had a killer view of the Station. "It went well," he said. "Project's been reinstated. With bonuses."

"What kind of bonuses?" Bastila said, her eyebrows rising.

"Fifty-thousand credits, give or take, from some rich anonymous donor who would feel self-righteous if his name were made public."

Bastila smiled and looked at the floor.

Carth gawked at her. "It was you."

Bastila laughed. "Yes it was. Some of my father's old treasure hunting money."

"What about your mother?" Bastila looked away sadly, and folded her arms.

Carth mentally winced and mentally kicked himself and mentally wished he could back in time and mentally taken his foot out of his mouth. "When did it happen?" he said, hoping she would answer.

"A few months ago. It's been hard on Vaner."

Carth sighed. "Little tike loved her, huh?

Bastila looked back at him. "She _adored_ him. And he was rather fond of her too. She was bound to go soon, with her illness and all. Nobody said it was this hard though."

Carth could understand why the Jedi always did their preaching about not getting attached. But everyone experiences pain, even a soldier, but that doesn't mean that that pain is a weakness. "How is he?"

"Sleeping. He loves watching the shuttles go by. He's fascinated by them, and wants to learn how to fly one. Just as his father did…" She trailed off, and again turned her head to the cityscape.

Carth lowered his head. He felt helpless in this situation. He had lost his spouse as well many, many years ago, and he knew that any 'comfort' given by an outside party was in vain. "He's out there." Carth said. "I know it."

Bastila smiled. "I know he is." She turned again to look into Carth's eyes. "But how much more war can the Republic endure before it shatters completely? If Revan is to ever return he would want the Republic intact. How much longer until we can rebuild?"

Carth ran a hand through his hair. "I do not know." He said bitterly. "We've lost so many systems in the last few months: Onderon, Dantooine, Taanab. I can't save the Republic on my own, and the Senate can't keep the Republic intact with the fleet the size of ours. I've failed him, Bastila."

"Carth Onasi," Bastila said fiercely. "You haven't failed anyone. You saved Revan from a crash landing on Taris. You helped the reborn Dark Lord of the Sith, turned Jedi, to locate the Star Forge, a powerful Sith weapon. You convinced your son, who had been taken in by the Sith, to serve as a Republic spy. And you saved the Republic at the Battle of Rakata Prime, alongside thousands of Republic Troops. You haven't failed anyone, so quit feeling sorry for yourself and get this done."

Carth smirked broadly. Bastila sure had a way with people.

Carth's comlink's buzzing woke him in quite a fright. Bastila was in the spare room with Vaner, and he hoped that his comm wouldn't wake them. He rummaged through his jacket and found the blasted thing and answered it. "Greggs, I thought I told you not to disturb me-"

"Admiral, it's me." It was the voice of Lieutenant Dol Grenn, of the TSF. "We need you at our headquarters in Entertainment Module 081 immediately. You're going to want to see this." Carth needed no other explanation as he shut the comm down and dressed hurriedly.

Carth caught a shuttle, barely, heading over to the Entertainment Module and sprinted to the TSF station. He headed back into Grenn's private office and found the lieutenant poring over datapads and drinking cold caf. "Dol?" Carth said as he walked in. "What's up that you have to call me out of bed at four in the morning."

Grenn sighed. "Let him tell you himself." He punched a code into the keyboard on his desk and on the screen behind Carth a face appeared. Carth turned and saw the one they called the Exile, Valos Norelco. He looked none too pleased with Carth's tardiness, but Carth couldn't blame him. But what in space did he want?

"Exile." Carth said softly. "You've returned. Have you found what you were looking for?"

The man's menacing eyes seemed to penetrate Carth like a knife. "Not yet, Admiral." His voice was hollow just as Carth had remembered. "But I will. I suggest you surrender Telos to me immediately, or I will blow Citadel Station from the sky."

Carth blinked heavily. Wasn't the Exile a friendly? Surely he was; he had saved Telos from the Sith, fought the Mandalorians, and was alike Revan in so many ways…

Carth stopped his racing mind. The Exile wasn't Revan. He found himself forgetting that. Perhaps he felt by believing in the Exile it would be like having Revan back, but he knew now the Exile's true agenda.

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Carth said, standing tall.

"Ah," the Exile replied. "Perhaps _this_ will help you understand."

The image flickered to space above Citadel Station, where the _Ebon Hawk_ was, apparently where the Exile was currently. But then suddenly hundreds of ships came out of hyperspace behind the _Ebon Hawk_. Carth's jaw dropped and he could tell Dol shifted uncomfortably. Carth couldn't make out some of the ship-makes but the majority of them were high-grade _MandalMotors_ frigates. The Mandalorians apparently had joined Norelco, but why would he want to start a war with the Republic?

"I'd rather not destroy Telos a second time, Admiral. Make your decision now or live with the consequences."

Carth stared down for an intense few seconds. The world had stopped and all was focused upon this moment. If he resisted, it would be the end of Telos. If he complied, it could be the end of the Republic itself. And yet…

Carth focused his attention back to the Dark Jedi. "The planet's yours."

_Author's note: Loved writing Carth(: please R&R!_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Carnos was glad that he finally had Telos under his grasp and Atris' archives at his disposal. He was at Atris' academy now, in Atris' meditation room and had multiple holocrons at his feet, which he had not shared with his slaves. They had cleared the bodies away after he had killed the wretch Atris and Brianna had killed her sisters, as the cowering fools they were. Formidable opponents yes, as most Echani were, but they had feared him and his power.

He was unsurprised at the quantities and volumes of Sith knowledge Atris had collected and amassed over such a short time, or perhaps she had been collecting her entire life? She had worked within the Archives before the Dark Wars, and been on the Council of First Knowledge, however those years of wallowing in records didn't serve her when Carnos dueled her in these halls.

The polar region was a wasteland of snow and ice, and very little predators or wildlife roamed its frozen plains. It seemed the ideal place for Atris to set up an academy and 'preserve' the Jedi and their teachings. But after the death of the academy's Master and her handmaidens, the halls of this place lay empty and cold, like the swift and painful death they had received.

He had looked over a dozen holocrons today alone and the gatekeepers had been as cryptic as their predecessors on Malachor V. None possessed the information he had needed, about what lay beyond the Outer Rim, what Revan had gone to combat. He had spent weeks on Malachor V, to no avail which drew him to conclude that Sith records were more likely in abundance on Telos than Korriban in its current state. He had called upon Mandalore and the Mandalorians to fight, and they besieged the planet with absolutely no resistance.

Immediately after his forces raided Citadel Station, Carnos declared martial law and imposed a complete blockade of the system with the Republic's own vessels. Not much was left of the fleet that was tasked with responding to Nihlus' attack force, but they would suffice. Carnos knew that every system that fell under his grasp, more and more would come to join his legions. The Republic was broken, he knew that, but it didn't mean that they couldn't be a threat. It still held on to a hope, perhaps a foolish hope, that had helped them limp on since the end of the Jedi Civil War; the hope for peace.

Carnos smiled to himself. There would be no peace, not until he had found and destroyed the Sith Empire, and found and, if need be, killed Revan.

"Might I indulge you for a moment, Exile?" a drawling, arrogant voice said from behind. Carnos turned to face one of his least favorite things in the galaxy: G0-T0. He wasn't sure if the thing was just an apparatus for its master to keep a close eye on Carnos and his slaves, or if the droid itself _was_ Goto. He didn't care however; the blasted thing had been a nuisance and a hindrance to him since it had entered his ship.

"What do you want, droid?" he responded.

"As anxious as I am to destroy what is left of the Republic, I would tell you that you are not honoring our agreement that we made upon my yacht."

Carnos glared at the black orb. "The agreement has changed. But perhaps you feel you are being treated unfairly?"

The droid bobbed up and down and the single red photoreceptor gazed unmovingly back at the Sith Lord. "You fail to see the injustice you have caused me, Jedi. I am currently your employer, therefore I am in command of you-,"

Carnos' right hand immediately snapped up and penetrated into the droid shell. His gloved hand gripped around its mainframe, which was a small sphere in the center. The droid's voice began to distort and its photoreceptor began to flicker.

"Do you feel in command?" Carnos said, pulling the dome closer. He couldn't tell what the droid said in response but he made out two words: Why, and credits.

"You have nothing to offer me, you sniveling fool." He pulled the droid even closer and spoke directly to the red photoreceptor. He wanted its master to never forget the promise he was about to make. "I will find you, Goto. I will find you and torture everyone you love while you watch helplessly, and then I will kill them. Slowly, painfully, and then when you have seen my work I will do the same to you." With that he crushed the mainframe. The photoreceptor went blank and he cast the broken durasteel aside.

* * *

Iradros Turus was proving to be a valuable asset in the Residential Quarter, Vaklu was told by his head of the Sanctum, Ether Benvak. Vaklu hadn't really considered the Sanctum a very well organized peace keeping force but then he saw the efficiency of the Sabers and their brutality towards criminals. The Republic would not attempt to attack the City or retake the system while the Sanctum stood guard.

But something was troubling him immensely, and it wasn't the poor cooking of the palace chef's apprentice (her master had perished in the Battle for Freedom, which was incredibly distasteful at that) but it was the troubling news of the Jedi Exile besieging Telos weeks after he had saved Citadel Station from crushing Telos' surface into asteroid rock. The ex-Jedi had blockaded the entire system, using the Republic's own vessels, which Vaklu considered formidable. But he still felt troubled by news of Telos' fate.

His newly christened second-in-command, Colonel Liyous, had done had a commendable job of securing the system after the Battle for Freedom, however he lacked experience and possessed minimal amounts of ambition, but with the death of Colonel Tobin, he had been the best option.

He sat in the throne room, reading about the freelance shipping routes through his system; he had been considering bartering with Weequay pirates that were regular visitors in this sector but yet that was a little emphasized issue in the recess of his mind; he knew the Exile was a powerful being so who would stop him if he decided to conduct an assault on Iziz itself?

Vaklu put down the datapad, and stood from his esteemed (and rather overrated) chair and walked out of the room, proceeding to the east hall. In a few minutes he was in the security room, sending a secure message to the Dantooine's center of government Khoonda, the message very brief: _We need to talk. Meet me in 3 days time in Iziz. –Vaklu_.

* * *

"Dopak received the message less than an hour ago, sir, he said it was urgent." Azkul nodded to himself; he knew that Dopak wouldn't have bothered him unnecessarily but with these farmer boys from Taanab and other rural worlds who knew as little of war as a laigrek. He wouldn't take their word over bantha dung.

Azkul dismissed the young mercenary and followed him out of his private chambers. He came into the main hall of his private estate, which actually belonged to the late Nurik Sandral, who had been killed by Azkul himself shortly before his siege on Khoonda. Nurik had two children, but his son had perished five years previous and he had disowned his daughter after she had run off with a boy from a rival family. Azkul knew little of the family's history, nor did he care, but he quickly dressed into some fine linen clothing and grabbed a quick bite to eat. Khoonda was an hour commute on speeder and he knew that at an unearthly hour like this, his stomach would never forgive him if he did not attend to it.

In twenty minutes he had passed the grove ruins and was coming up close to the government capital. He preferred his swoop bike over a chauffeured speeder; whenever he was able to show that he wasn't an administrative stiff like Terena Adare, he actively welcomed it with open arms. They had rebuilt and expanded their reach and commerce, which meant more weapons and arms for his soldiers-for-hire. There had been several coups to the south, but he had shut those down pretty quick; he would accept no disloyalty from a farming schutta who was ungrateful for him freeing Dantooine from the grasp of the Republic. That government was swiftly collapsing underneath itself.

He pulled into the garage and Dopak met him as soon as he walked into the security room. Dopak had his back turned to him and had focused his gaze upon the monitors, looking at news feed from all over the HoloNet. It was no big surprise to anyone now that the one they called the Exile had besieged Telos. Azkul had witnessed firsthand what that man could do; he had obliterated Jedi Master Vrook Lamar like a Coruscant Granite slug in the entrance of Khoonda. It had been a private duel, but Azkul poured over the security footage for weeks, studying both Force-users' fighting styles, techniques, physique, and aggression.

Norelco had been the more aggressive of the two, which came as no surprise, but he had channeled the rage within Vrook to his own advantage. It was an old Sith tactic, but Azkul had never seen it been used successfully on a full fledged Master. The end of the duel was easily the most awe-inspiring. Norelco hadn't killed Vrook by running him through with his weapon, but had destroyed him using the Force. A great red light had erupted within him; his eyes glowed red and powered surged off of his finger tips and then a great beam of violet light erupted from his torso and exploded upon Lamar. The man's life left him slowly, but as Vrook weakened, the Exile seemed to grow stronger and stand taller as the red in his eyes illuminated the room. Vrook shrieked, a disturbing shrill sound, like a child who had discovered someone dear to them being tortured or killed in front of them, and then a great flash of light covered the camera screen and when it had returned to focus, Vrook's body had disappeared from view.

The Exile's body had taken a toll; the overall scarred quality of his body still fascinated Azkul; Norelco's skin was grey and his eyes deep yellow, with many battle wounds throughout his body but he was as strong as any feral beast and could kill any opponent. There was no doubt in the mercenary's mind.

"Why have you summoned me here?" Azkul said to Dopak, and the younger man turned to face him. His goatee was still as prominent as ever, but his pulled back hair was fraying and was slightly unkempt at the moment.

"Somethin's come up, boss." He said briefly and he nodded to one of the attendants at the computer terminals who typed in something rapidly into the interface. Text came upon all the monitors that read very briefly: _We need to talk. Meet me in 3 days time in Iziz. –Vaklu_

Azkul nodded and turned to Dopak again. "Get my shuttle ready. Don't want to keep the good king waiting."

"Yes sir." Dopak responded and Azkul left without another word.

_Author's Note: Hope you're all liking the direction this is taking!(: Thank you to my reviewers and followers. You humble these bones like nothing else(: Anyway to respond to your comments. The Exile is now Darth Carnos, sorry for the typo of Manthrak...That was the original name but I changed it because I like the other much better. I am hoping to be updating every month or so...please keep following this epic journey! I'm very excited to keep writing._

_-Penance_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"I'm surprised you got my message so quickly."

Jolee shrugged and scratched his beard. "Carth, you know me. I've got a pretty damn good talent of showing up quickly, like an old bantha to come lumberin' around to grab some goulash. Goulash ain't bad when ya think about it."

Carth shook his head and smiled on Jolee's private hand-held communicator. "I've missed you old man. I'm glad you haven't lost your sense of humor. Look I don't have much time, but I know you've heard about the quarantine on Telos." The old man nodded and the Admiral continued. "We don't have much food and supplies, and pretty soon we're going to run out, and I know that Norelco won't care. Do you think you can smuggle in some stuff using my light freighter? She's still docked there at my estate."

"Ooh, Mr. High and Mighty. 'I'm Admiral of the Republic so now I can buy an estate, whoopee.' You sound a good and proper stiff, Onasi."

Carth shook his head again. "Oh man," he said, "It's great to see you though. But I've got to go; this channel may have been compromised. Good luck." And with that Carth cut the channel. Jolee tossed the comlink onto his sofa across the room and laid down on the bed. He knew that he was getting far too old for this sort of thing.

He was in his private apartment in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. He and a few other Jedi had holed up in here, but no one knew of their presence on the planet. He was definitely an old man, and the way he saw it, he saved the galaxy twice and needed to catch a break.

He had forgone his standard Jedi robes while he had stayed here. He found it rather ironic that he wasn't wearing the uniform of the Jedi in _the_ place for Jedi. He hadn't seen much action in recent months, but the dozen or so Jedi that had set up in here were less than likely to strike out against the Sith threat or the threat of the Exile. They were all, for lack of a better term, self-outcast Jedi, who had chosen to go into hiding.

Jolee was somewhat enjoying his 'retirement' but he knew something had to be done about Telos. The Republic didn't know about the Jedi safe house here in the Temple, but Chancellor Felth knew that the Jedi wouldn't want him to violate their temple with Republic operatives inside of their catacombs, so they left the Temple dormant, and empty.

The old Jedi stood and walked into his kitchen and grabbed some of the vitamin juice the other Jedi had managed to mix up from some powder. They had rationed their food and supplies, but they hadn't needed their first aid kit or use their healing abilities due to the lack of any activity whatsoever. Jolee had spent some much of his time navigating the tunnels of the Temple, and other times diving head first into the records in the Archives. Otherwise he was in here, nappin'.

Jolee proceeded out of his chambers and into the halls of Temple. It was so vast with so little Jedi to occupy its corridors and dormitories. He made his way to the auditorium, or at least one of them. This auditorium was below the High Council's spire, and Jolee needed to speak with someone.

He opened the door with the flick of a switch and entered the dimly lit dome shaped room and its occupants were all sprawled in three or four chairs, with blankets and rations laden upon their laps. The old Jedi laughed to himself silently when he saw the Sniv Corstil's classic _Across Space and Time _displayed on the hologram projector. Here, Jorsin, played by Ty Iridru, was professing his love for the Zeltron dancer Ritha. Jolee had always hated this play, but apparently there were those left in the Order who appreciated acting and drama. But Jolee couldn't figure out why Jedi, even semi-Jedi, would be watching a musical that emphasized emotional attachments.

He walked down a few steps and scanned the room and saw the person he had come looking for. Juhani was reading a datapad in a corner seat, uninterested in the drama displayed on the projector. He silently made his way down to her and discreetly sat in the row on her flank. He didn't speak for a few seconds, but when he did, it didn't startle Juhani at all. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Juhani replied without looking up from her tablet. "What is it you require?"

Jolee leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I've got a job to do with Telos. I want you to go with me." He paused for a moment, and then continued with, "Carth is trapped on the planet and needs supplies."

Juhani looked up and cocked her feline-like features toward him. Her yellow eyes always gave him the heebeegees and whillies. "You need a smuggling partner? Why didn't you say so before?"

* * *

Azkul's shuttle descended slowly into the Palace's private hangar bay, and the war veteran absent-mindedly caressed his cheek where his scar was. He had lost vision in his right eye fighting a Mandalorian in the Jedi Civil War, but of course it had been an unsanctioned battle between two mercenaries, who had no affiliation with the Republic or Sith. But it wasn't the scar that he was focused on; He had known General, well King now, Vaklu for some time; they had fought together in several skirmishes beyond Republic space before the Jedi Civil War, and both men had grown to respect each other immensely. Both had saved the other's life numerous times but they hadn't spoken in the years since Revan and Malak returned as conquerors from the Unknown Regions.

The shuttle landed, and Azkul bounced around slightly in his seat before he unlocked his belt. He was dressed in a flight suit, and he had his blaster holstered at his hip; he always felt a little less jumpy when he had a blaster at his side. He made his way down the boarding ramp, and was greeted by the King's Royal Guard, headed by General Vaklu's newly endowed second in command, Colonel Liyous. He was a tall and thin man, with short cropped brown hair. He had a thin and trimmed chin strap beard, and black leather boots that complemented his militant uniform. "Welcome, Commander Azkul," he said with a little nod. "General Vaklu has been looking forward to your arrival."

"Likewise I'm sure," Azkul said coldly. "Let us proceed into the Palace then."

Liyous nodded, turned and the Royal Guard escorted them out of the hangar and into a turbolift that took them to the throne room level. They then proceeded to the main security room, where Liyous said Vaklu would meet them. They traveled in silence, no man speaking to one another and Azkul was busy admiring some of the training members of the Iziz Sanctum, he believed they were called. The way he was told, they were an army of Jedi that were trained by Valos Norelco to protect Onderon from invaders. He would kill for a task force with the same abilities.

They entered the security room and Azkul took a seat on one of the benches opposite the terminal screens. It had been a long flight and he was very tired; he hoped to sleep well within the palace tonight. The good colonel dismissed the guard and said Vaklu would be there in a few minutes and he too left the room. Azkul felt slightly on edge; he was alone, and for a strange reason felt as though his life was in immediate danger.

Vaklu then entered the room, which eased Azkul slightly. The former General was dressed in fine silk clothing, which Azkul thought didn't suit him at all. "You look like a pampered palace rat, Vaklu," he shot at him, "Never thought I'd see the day when you started gettin' soft."

Vaklu smiled back. "And yet you are the one who is an administrator of a militant government on a farm world."

Azkul shook his head and walked forward to grasp the other man's hand. "It's nice to see you comrade. What can I do for you?"

"I wished to discuss something with you."

"This couldn't have been over the comm?"

"I prefer this to be off record."

Azkul was slightly surprised, yet not so surprised by this; Vaklu had been a secretive man when they had worked with their group of gunslingers back in the day. He had told no one but Azkul of his royal bloodline back on Onderon, and it actually had been Azkul who convinced him to return to Iziz to petition to be King.

"Please, go ahead." Azkul said, stepping back."

Vaklu cleared his throat, and crossed his arms across his torso. "I've been contemplating the events of Telos and of the Exile's exploits both here on Onderon and on Dantooine."

"Yeah, what about it?"

Vaklu didn't continue for a few moments. "He has demonstrated great power, and drive and ability to do what must be done."

Azkul rolled his eyes. "Get to the damn point."

Vaklu nodded and said briefly, "What is going to stop him turning upon us like he did upon Telos?"

Azkul tilted his head and his eyes widened. "What are you proposing?"

"An alliance."

Azkul paused for a moment before he answered. He was hoping that Vaklu wasn't proposing a rebellion against the Exile; failure would mean certain death, or perhaps a lifetime of torture. "You wish to assassinate the Exile," he said simply.

Vaklu turned and walked toward one of the computer terminals and punched something in. "He has grown too powerful to not be considered a threat, my friend," he said with his back to hom. "It is better to prepare than to perish."

Azkul rolled his eyes and he remembered being sick of Vaklu's preaching when they had served together. "But you are unofficially committing treason, _my friend_." He said the last two words in the same fervor that Vaklu usually spoke in.

Vaklu finished typing into the terminal and turned. "Perhaps this will change your mind," he stated and indicated the monitors on the opposite wall. There flashed three holovids, one of Norelco fighting a Jedi Azkul was not familiar with, another of his massive invasion fleet at Citadel Station, and the last fighting Vrook in the Khoonda entrance hall.

Azkul turned back to the Onderonian. "How did you get that footage?" he indicated the holovid of Vrook.

"I received it from Dopak shortly thereafter you left Dantooine."

Azkul mentally growled; he knew that Dopak would have supported this alliance with Vaklu and Onderon. He was always a bold kid, maybe stupid, but bold.

"Well," Azkul replied, "I'll remember to gut the kinrath spawn when I return to the system." He smiled, though he meant every word.

"Ah, but Dopak understands that this would be beneficial to both our parties, Azkul," Vaklu continued. "If the Exile is slain, we will assume command of his empire and his forces."

"Perhaps you're an idiot too. We don't nearly inspire as much fear as this man does. Nor do we possess as much power. The empire would merely crumble; we could never salvage the pieces." Azkul found himself yammering on, but felt there was more to be said. "Don't bite off more than you can chew. This is not a good move, Vaklu. Why don't you focus on expanding your trade routes and not assuming somebody else's power?" He turned to leave, but Vaklu grabbed his shoulder, and Azkul almost instinctually executed a trip kick to the ankles, but managed to restrain himself.

"You really should reconsider, Azkul," Vaklu said.

"Why would I do that?" Azkul responded, craning his neck slightly to see Vaklu in his peripheral vision. He did not come here to fight, but he was more than ready to.

"This is for the survival of both our worlds, and perhaps the galaxy. I need you on my side."

Azkul considered this for several moments, and then spoke. "Alright, but we do this indirectly. Don't make a move on the Exile yet. Sabotage his moves, and then we'll seize the opportunity when it arises. Nothing more."

Vaklu patted him upon the shoulder as Azkul turned. The two men grasped each other's forearms, a show of highest respect. "I knew I could count on you my friend." Vaklu said holding Azkul's gaze.

"Don't press your luck, General." And with that, Azkul left the room and heading for the spaceport, thousands of thoughts racing through his mind, all connected with the fate of the galaxy. He wondered what parties would assume power….and about how much money he would end up making.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Carth's ship was pretty rickety, even for a very wealthy man's ship at that. Juhani was so much adapted to the _Ebon Hawk_, and her personal Jedi _Strikefighter_ that she had used in the Dark Wars. Well, they say the Dark Wars ended at the Battle of Telos about a month and half ago, but now that the Exile had turned on the Republic as well, the 'Dark Wars' were just beginning in her mind.

Jolee was piloting the old freighter, while she was in the back securing their cargo. They had about five dozen cases of weapons, supplies, food, and some clothing. She knew it could last the common refugee at least three months, but she had asked Jolee what the refugees had needed the weapons for. The old man had responded with "We want them to get a rebellion goin' don't we? That'll be a couple of wrinkles in the Exile's butt!" She never spoke in such a manner, but she had always appreciated Jolee's talent at lightening any situation.

Carth's ship, which I.D. tags had designated it as _Proud Storm_, was a fairly decent ship, she had to admit, but again she thought of the comfort and homely feeling of the_ Ebon Hawk_. She noticed this as the freighter lurched a little and she stumbled slightly while counting the crates of food. They had about three dozen of those, but most of it was protein and mineral based products, not exactly glamorous but enough to keep you alive.

But her thoughts came back to Telos and to Citadel Station. She knew what the dangers were of her and Jolee smuggling these goods into the citizens, and that the Exile would not hesitate in killing them. She knew the risk involved; she had known them when she had become a Jedi so long ago, and when she aspired to be a Jedi on Taris, where she had met her hero Revan. Revan had inspired many, but she had had the honor to serve with him in the war against Malak and the Sith, and she had grown to love him like she might love a father and respect him. She knew he was still alive, for if he had died, his death would have sent echoes through the Force that those closest to him would surely have felt, and Juhani knew that she was among those close few.

"Juhani, we've got a situation up here," Jolee called over the comm. "Need you up here now."

She strapped down the last cargo cylinder and sprinted up to the cockpit, not really guessing what was going on. Jolee still had his head toward the cockpit front, working with the controls atop the desktop.

"What is it?" She said, sitting down in one of the passenger chairs.

"They've added patrol ships to the blockade," Jolee said, pointing out of the viewport glass. Juhani glanced out and saw the blockade of the planet, with dozens of Republic ships lining the planet, but now Mandalorian freighters were patrolling what looked like around the planet, nearly adding a third of bulk to the frontal blockade of the system.

"It seems this will not be as easy as we expected, Jolee." She stated simply.

Jolee grunted. "That's putting it mildly." He unstrapped his belt and tinkered with some of the switches on his 'toy rack'. "Let's shut down all irrelevant systems; interior lighting, back lag, and the drag fins."

"What in space are you speaking of, old man?" she said, her eyes widening.

"I'm old, damn it. I'm getting a little senile so I talk to myself sometimes. But you already should know that right?"

Juhani shook her head and got up from her seat. "Just make sure we get into Citadel Station alive."

"Anything for the beautiful woman."

* * *

Citadel Station hadn't degraded nearly as bad as projections had shown; it was much worse. Shortly after the occupation had begun, gang wars had started, between rival crime lords that ravaged the streets and sucked up food and medical supplies. Organized crime and unorganized crime spread like wildfire, chaos reigning through the modules. The Republic couldn't intervene; otherwise Carnos would blow the facility from the sky, so the citizens were completely at the Dark Lord's mercy.

Carth knew he had little options. Organizing a resistance movement was incredibly dangerous and risky, and he knew most of the citizens therein wouldn't comply; Norelco was just too powerful, the most powerful being he had ever seen. The last man he had perform such feats of power was none other than the Exile's mentor, Revan. But Revan and the Exile hadn't seen each other in just under a decade, at the end of the Mandalorian Wars. But Carth knew that Revan couldn't help him right now, but he knew his friend was still alive.

Bastila was still on the station. The Exile hadn't discovered her yet, thank the Force. She had to get out of here; whatever malicious ends Darth Carnos may have for her, Carth didn't want to find out. She had taken her son and gone into hiding, and Carth had done likewise. The Exile had tried to detain him once he controlled the Station; Carth had escaped and Carnos had placed a bounty upon his head, dead or alive. Carth had actually bumped into some confident bounty hunters the other day, but none left the scene alive. It was a running joke among his crewman that he wasn't much of a fighter after he had been promoted to Admiral to replace the retired Forn Dodonna, but that didn't mean his natural talent with a blaster had been diminished.

He knew he had done right in contacting Jolee, and giving him the intel required to sneak into the system with necessities for refugees. And Jolee was a way off of the station for Bastila; her safety was top priority. But yet Carth was acting on a hunch. He didn't know what the Exile was after, or if he cared about what happened to Bastila, but he felt a strong sense of responsibility, and since her husband wasn't here to protect her, he would do his best.

Carth now was in his hideout in the Entertainment Module 145; just outside some of the docks, this way he could sneak in and steal some supplies that were left unattended. Bastila was on the other side of the station, and just to guarantee her welfare, he did not know the exact location of her safe place. He knew he would never betray her willingly, but he knew that Darksiders had forms of persuasion that could break down a mind quicker than womp rat after some rotting dragon citrus. He had routine contact with her, and they met at neutral locations every few weeks to exchange supplies and confidential information that was too risky to be shared over the comm. But there hadn't been much information to share, besides that the Exile hadn't made a public appearance since he had seized the system, which meant he was planning something.

Carth sipped down some of the proteins he had just made and strapped on his holster. Jolee had contacted him very early this morning, saying that he and another Jedi, Jolee hadn't specified who, were just outside of the system, and to expect the ship in the next six hours.

Carth grabbed his comlink off of his desk and commed Bastila. He knew she hadn't much time.

Bastila's voice came in loud and clear. "Hello?"

"It's me," Carth replied, "Get Vaner and yourself ready to leave. I've got a ship coming in that's going to get you out of here."

Bastila didn't respond. Obviously she was shocked with the suddenness of the news, but her voice still kept the same composure when she spoke. "Very well. Where do we meet?"

Carth thought upon a rendezvous point, and decided to meet in the Residential Module 114. "I will see you there in half an hour." Bastila responded and she cut the channel.

Carth grabbed his dragon citrus and sprinted out the door.

_Author's Note: Only one chapter this month…little bit of the accursed writers block! I will be updating in the next two weeks however… Thank you to my loyal reviewers and followers! Keep R&Ring! God bless._

_-Penance_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Malachor V reminded her of Katarr, and how it was a dead planet with nothing but pure hatred and malice carved through its surface. She had taken up residence here, on her Master's orders, to guard the archives, but not much was contained, (or needed to be) within. She had seen many Sith relics inside, like she had seen in the tomb of the Sith Lord on Dxun; many of the records therein were lacking, incomplete or brief. She had realized that the Sith did not keep their records as the Jedi had, but she could still see the irony; the Sith still yet lived, and the Jedi had burned, as would the galaxy.

Her Miralukan heritage left her blind but through the power of the Force, and the augmentation of the dark side, she could 'see'; see into the hearts of others and know their minds, see across the galaxy and know her enemies' movements. And with her Master's teachings she had become a very great threat to those enemies. Her Master, on the other hand, commanded forces that no one could possibly comprehend, and he had risen to become the greatest of all Sith, the Master of the dark side.

She wasn't alone on this dead world; her Master had left her with the Iridonian, and the great beast from the world of trees. They mostly kept to themselves, and rarely left their areas of the Trayus Academy. The Iridonian had used his natural talent with machines but repairing his machines, and the Wookiee released his aggression hunting storm beasts upon the ravaged surface of the planet. He wouldn't return days at a time; he was a hunter, and his prey was calling.

But even these three were not alone; they shared the Academy's dwellings with some Mandalorians and some mercenaries from Onderon and Dantooine. They were all here on command from the Exile, while he was on Telos. Visas knew not why he was there, but she had already guessed its purpose. Malachor V was the most abundant in Sith knowledge in the galaxy, and she knew that her Master hadn't discovered what he had been looking for. Korriban had been ravaged due to the Sith remnants mad scramble for power. That left little options; the cold one's archives in the abandoned academy were the most likely to hold the knowledge Lord Carnos was after, but he had already been there, and claimed that he had found nothing. But even this wasn't weighed upon her mind.

Something stirred in the Unknown Regions. She knew not what it was, or when it would strike, but she knew it was a threat to her, and her Master. And she knew that she would do whatever was necessary to preserve him.

* * *

_Bal kote, darasuum kote, jorso'ran kando a tome. Sa kyr'am Nau tracyn kad, Vode an. _'And glory, eternal glory, we shall bear it's weight together. Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all.' It was a simple chant, bred into every Neo-Crusader as soon as he learned to speak, but it carried the weight, and the honor, of being Mandalorian with it. Canderous knew that honor, and that glory, still escaped him and his followers. Since he donned Mandalore's Mask, the highest pride and honor for his people, and became Mandalore the Preserver, he had not seen his great mentor and friend. He hadn't seen Revan in three years.

Since then he had discovered other powerful allies. The Exile, who actually had served with Revan in the Mandalorian Wars, was truly a powerful being. But Revan's sudden disappearance after their findings on Rekkiad had left him perturbed. Then the appearance of the Exile on Dxun, and then the cryptic old woman…

Canderous was glad that she had met her end at the hands of the Exile. The manipulative old witch had invaded his dreams and plagued his nights with visions and images of Veela, Revan standing over her with her blood on his hands. She knew far too much about him, and he gladly would have ended her if his new found ally hadn't in the heart of Malachor.

The clans fought, and they fought proudly, even if it was under the banner of a warlord, and Canderous wasn't thinking of himself, but of the Exile, Darth Carnos. It wasn't the first time that the Mandalorians had fought under a Sith Lord; his fathers had fought under the fallen Jedi Exar Kun and his apprentice Ulic Qel-Droma decades ago. But Carnos wasn't the same as the Jedi abandoners but still had the same darkness as them, that plagued his countenance but amplified his already considerable power. The same type of power Revan had displayed…

Canderous now was above Telos with his most trusted warriors; Kelborn, Zuka, and Bralor to name a few, on board one of their best corvette vessels. He still wore Mandalore's Armor, and the Mask still shrouded his face. He rarely removed it, except to rest. He did this out of respect for Revan, to preserve both their identities. Only Canderous' closest friends knew that he had served with the Revanchist in the Jedi Civil War, but the youngest among the Clans followed Mandalore because that had been bred into them at the earliest of ages. But Canderous knew that a choice was coming, and he knew that those he traveled with had felt it too.

He knew that soon he would have to choose, between what he knew to be right, and what was right for his people; between the Master and the Apprentice.

* * *

The _Proud Storm_'s current home was right in the midst of many cargo transports in Residential Module 114, and Juhani knew that they had to hurry; Carth had brought several citizens, who he stated had earned his trust, who unloaded all the crates within the freighter's storage room in swift unison. Her co-pilot and conspirator continued to speak with Carth as the Admiral slipped an unknown wrapped package into the old man's hand. Juhani didn't press Jolee upon what it was, but two of Carth's companions were not so un-unique. It was a human woman and a young child, who was young enough to be held in arm, the woman with a cloak that obscured her face, but the child's countenance was of merit to Juhani, because she felt as if the child were a ghost; he had jet black shoulder-length hair and dark brooding eyes. Revan's eyes.

Carth and Jolee still spoke in hushed tones and then the Admiral beckoned the woman over. She stepped forward quickly, and Jolee's eyes lit up when he saw who was under the hood. Juhani was already firing up the engines.

* * *

_Author's Note: OK guys...I am a terrible pen pal lately...Sorry this took so long to get up. I'm working feverishly to get multiple chapters up a month instead of these little tidbits every 6 weeks. Keep the faith, God Bless._

_-Penance_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The massive storm beast charged again. The dark furred Wookiee let out an infuriated howl and readied to counterattack. His Ryyk blades had already seen much blood today, slaying dozens of creatures upon the dead surface of Malachor V. The green hide of the storm beast was barely visible as Hanharr executed a front-flip that contradicted his size, and he landed stiffly behind it, thrusting both of his weapons into the animal's neck. It made several gurgled noises, before it spasms ensured its death. The corpse collapsed with Hanharr still gripping his tools still embedded within its scaly hide, and as he withdrew them with ease, he studied the blades covered in the green ooze of the beast. He relished battle like this; it was his nature and his current assignment of guarding the blind seer had only infuriated him more.

He had finally killed the red-maned huntress, the one they had called Mira, and he had strived for this all of his years. He had been shamed by her deep in the tunnels underneath the surface of the steel planet, but he refused to show weakness, least of all to her. He hadn't told any of this to his Master, or to the old witch. But yet she had always known, she had always known who he was, who he had killed, and what befall him. He had never understood what the Force was, but he knew she had had a powerful affinity for it. However, his Master had killed her on this dead world only a few short weeks ago. He had wanted to witness that battle, to understand what had happened as it would had to have been an incredible display of power. He journeyed back to the monastery in swiftness, despite that he had hadn't eaten in several days. He often disappeared on hunting trips and would be gone several weeks. Neither the horned man nor blind seer presumed to command him, and never questioned his absence. They knew he wouldn't perish to the petty prey on this world.

This academy of what his Master called the Sith now lay empty, when it had flourished with students only a few short weeks ago. He journeyed through to the Archives, where the Seer was. As he entered the room, he noticed the blind woman was faced towards a substantially large holocron, a device of the Force, and it had just finished closing.

"Welcome back, beast." She said, without turning.

Hanharr growled menacingly. He hated to be called that, even though deep inside his hollow heart he knew it to be true. He said nothing in return, and started across the room toward his chambers.

"Prepare to leave," she called again. "We must journey to the world of Dantooine."

Hanharr stopped. He turned and growled why.

"He has called an audience."

Hanharr shifted with anticipation. It was starting.

* * *

Azkul had heard nothing back from Vaklu since their 'unofficial' meeting a few days ago. Nothing much had happened. He hadn't heard anything of the Exile's movements, or any Republic grievances. Telos had had martial law declared upon them, and Carnos, formerly known as Valos Norelco, had blockaded the system and the citizens of Citadel Station barely got enough to eat. But Azkul didn't care much about that last part; he only cared about what the Exile was up to. Since then Azkul had realized that Vaklu wouldn't take action first. So he had decided to take matters into his own hands; he had assembled a response team for when any opportunity arose to hinder Carnos' moves, but he never thought this team would actually see any action. Made up of former Mandalorians, Force-users, and farmers, these were the best fighters and intellectual scum he had come across; in all about a dozen.

He had hoped that soon his opportunity would arise. Each passing day the Exile grew stronger. The former Jedi was preparing for something, galactic domination, maybe. But yet only he, Azkul, could stop it.

* * *

_He was in a city in the clouds, far removed from the war raging in the east. This was Taloraan, far removed from the bright center of the galaxy, but not outside of the Republic. He made his way through dark corridors, illuminated but what he knew not, through empty and hallowed halls. This was a facility of some kind, whether of corporate or commercial, and he surprisingly knew where to go. He was so close to his goal, so close to the thing that would end the Exile's reign of terror over Telos. And only he knew where and what it was. He was so close…_

Carth woke with a start. He was in one of his safe houses on Citadel Station, but this life on the run wouldn't last much longer; he had been arranging for transport down to the Restoration Zones to take up residence with the Ithorians on Telos' surface. He stood and walked into the refresher, trying to make sense of the dream as he splashed some cool water onto his face and smiled to himself. He reminded himself of Revan, trying to discern one of his many visions while they had traveled together aboard the _Ebon Hawk_ those many years ago. Carth puzzled over what his subconscious was trying to tell him, or what ever it was. Perhaps it was caused by stress, or out of fear and desperation. He walked over to his makeshift night stand (a cargo cylinder placed right by his cot) and grabbed his datapad. He inscribed a memo of the dream and all detail he remembered and set it back atop the plastic container.

He breathed a sigh of relief; the _Proud Storm_ had made it safely out of the system. And for this Carth was eternally grateful to Jolee for. The repercussions of the Exile discovering Bastila were, well, overwhelming. The Admiral preferred not to think about it. He found himself often thinking about the Republic, and of the condition of the Senate. Chancellor Felth could not regain control of the broken systems, and the trade routes had all but failed. Now that Telos had been lost, the Republic had lost one of its only trading planets in the Outer Rim, and with the loss of Dantooine and Onderon, other main economic contributors, Carth feared it would collapse within two months.

He hoped he was wrong.

* * *

_Author's Note: This is brief, but will prove to be critical to the story elsewhere...hope you enjoy this. Updates to come soon!_

_-Penance_


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